


you'll see her and her partner performing a pas de deux

by theyellowumbrella



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, staubrey - Freeform, very very mild hints of bechloe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6714838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyellowumbrella/pseuds/theyellowumbrella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stacie and Aubrey in the wake of a breakup, both trying their hardest to muddle through as best as they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll see her and her partner performing a pas de deux

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone loves a bit of angsty Staubrey, right? Wrong? Whatever.
> 
> Title is from Pas de Deux by Dodie Clark.
> 
> P.S. AO3 is an asshole and kept randomly deleting my saved changes so the second half of this has been tirelessly rewritten with a bunch of different scenarios about a million times which is why it is total shit.

Stacie doesn't think this dull throbbing in her chest will ever go away.

Realistically, she knows that it will, but right now — watching Aubrey laughing with Chloe on the other side of the room — it doesn't seem likely. Her heart is beating — slowly, almost tortuously so — loudly, echoing in her ears, and with each beat it hurts more — something she thinks impossible with each passing thud.

Beca is sitting beside her, small hands wrapped around two steaming cups of coffee — one with her name and the other with Stacie's scrawled on the front in a messy print. Stacie knows that really, she should have taken hers by now, but she can't pry her eyes from the two girls sitting by the window.

"Stace?" comes Beca's voice, soft as ever. "Stace, are you okay?"

She can feel herself nod, but it's almost an unconscious action. Her eyes never once leave Aubrey, and her focus remains on the way her shoulders rise gently when she laughs. Chloe is grinning away beside her, and she can feel Beca's eyes gravitating towards the two of them and she can almost feel her best friend's resolve weakening at the sight of the redhead.

"Yeah," she replies. "I'm fine."

Beca clears her throat. In her periphery, Stacie can see her putting down the two cups in her hands down on the coffee table so that she can rest her now free hand on Stacie's forearm. She squeezes lightly — as comforting a gesture as Beca can manage — and smiles only slightly awkwardly.

"Y'know, we don't have to ... stay here, or — I wouldn't judge you if it was like, too difficult to be in the same place as her, is all," she says, nervousness shining through in her voice. "Or whatever."

"This is fine, Becs," Stacie says, a firmness to her voice that wasn't there before. "She's not even near us. She doesn't know we're here. We aren't ... It's fine."

"You don't have to pretend to be okay, y'know?" she whispers. "We all know how hurt you are. You don't have to try and keep yourself together for us."

"I'm fine!" she snaps. When Beca flinches, Stacie lets out a shaky exhale, and bows her head to the ground. "I'm sorry," she says, resting her hand on Beca's knee. "I didn't mean to ... I just want to stop thinking about it, okay?"

"It's okay," Beca says, even though she knows that really, it isn't.

/

Dancing has always been Stacie's escape, ever since she was a little girl when her mom signed her up for ballet classes.

Sure, she loves singing, but there's something about dancing that just makes her feel _alive_ in the best way possible. If she isn't at a frat party or at Bellas rehearsal, she's definitely in the dance studio just off the side of Barden — almost secluded.

And that is where she finds herself today, with Caleb — the tall, lanky ballet dancer from her dance class — at nine in the morning. He's leaning against the floor-to-ceiling mirror, a bottle of water perched between his slender fingers. She watches him carefully as she sips at her own water, eyes trained on the way her swallows a large mouthful of water.

He's very pretty, she notes, in his own way. He's elegant, graceful and poised — upsettingly similar to Aubrey. His light brown hair brushes his eyelids just a little — slightly unkempt in the way that she loves — and his green eyes light up the room even from opposite sides. His slim fingers remind her of Aubrey, too, and the way that hers would always drum quiet, almost nonexistent beats on Stacie's hip.

She can bring everything back to Aubrey, and she kicks herself mentally for being able to relate her safe place to Aubrey.

"You ready to try again?" Caleb asks, noticing her gaze. Upon his lips rests an easy smile, one that puts her at ease almost instantly. "If there's anything I've learned from a year and a half of being in the same class as you it's that Stacie Conrad never settles for anything less than perfect."

That teasing lilt to his voice, the way the corners of his mouth turn up boyishly — that's what Stacie's missed so much in the past few months.

"Well, if you insist," she says, walking towards him. She offers her hand, which he takes graciously, and begins leading her into the moves of the routine they've tried so hard to perfect over the past three months.

They run through the steps almost perfectly, stumbling only a few times, and when Caleb lifts Stacie up into the air she swears she's flying.

What Stacie doesn't know (and, if Aubrey has any control over the situation, hopefully never will): Aubrey is leaning by the door, watching as she carries herself around the studio with enough grace to impress even Tobias Posen.

/

Nimble fingers dance over the expanse of skin exposed by Stacie's crop top, drawing an intricate pattern. Stacie tries her hardest not to think about Aubrey in these moments, but how can she not? Beca doesn't think anything of it if she notices, which Stacie appreciates.

(She knows that every part of Beca's mind is on Chloe anyway, which makes her feel slightly better).

"Do you think you'll be okay again?" Beca asks timidly.

"I'd like to think so," Stacie replies. "But then again, who knows?"

"I'd like to think you will, too," she says, voice trembling. Her hand comes to a halt and pauses on Stacie's stomach. "I'd like to think we all will."

"It's a nice thought."

/

It's a knock at the door that snaps Stacie out of her trance. She's sitting staring into blank space, eyes on a particular spot of the wall. She's not sure how long she's been out of it but her eyes are bleary and the harsh glow of the lamp in the corner tells her that it's late enough for it to have been hours.

She shuffles towards the door, making next to no sound as she travels. All of the other Bellas are upstairs, she thinks, and so she wonders who could be at the door at this time of night anyway. She unlocks the door and pulls it open with a tug, and when she sees who it is she freezes.

Because there is Aubrey Posen with mascara running down her cheeks and two suitcases at her heels.

"Can I come in?" she asks. She peers over Stacie's shoulder to look for any of the girls — most likely for a buffer for all of the awkwardness she's about to be faced with at this encounter. "Please. I haven't got anywhere else to go."

Stacie lets her in with reluctance, trying her hardest not to watch as Aubrey wheels her suitcases in to the sofa and takes a tentative seat, as if she's afraid to even touch the soft material that's waiting for her.

"I thought you were staying with your parents," Stacie says, her voice sharp like a knife. Aubrey can feel the way the words are meant to sting, and she hisses as if they actually wound her.

"I am," she says, her voice monotone. "I mean, I was," she corrects. "But I was kicked out."

"Why?" Stacie asks, and her voice borders on curious but not quite.

Aubrey lets out an unamused snort. "I was with my brother getting lunch when a girl from my English Lit class came up to me. She said that she'd heard we'd broken up and asked me if I'd like to get dinner sometime. I could barely get out an answer before my brother was on the phone to my dad, telling him how his only daughter, his precious Aubrey, was a big queer. Needless to say, it didn't go down well."

Stacie flinches at the mention of the breakup but she remains otherwise stoic. "I'm sorry," she says. "That sucks."

"Yeah," Aubrey agrees. "I was wondering if ... if it wasn't too much to ask ... could I maybe ..."

"You can sleep in Beca's room. I mean, she shares with Fat Amy but she's hardly ever in at nights anymore," Stacie says, already knowing her question. "Obviously, I'd say you could sleep in Chloe's room, except for the fact that that's also  _my_ room and — no offence or anything — I'd really rather not see you."

"No, that's ... I understand. I'll sleep on the couch tonight, though — I'd risk waking Beca up and I already know how unhappy she'll be to be sharing a room with me."

"Yeah. Maybe that's a good idea."

/

Stacie's awoken to the sound of crying.

She's been a Bella for long enough by now that she can identify who is crying and, on occasion, why they're crying. This particular cry comes from Chloe, who is outside of their bedroom but clearly not far enough away, and they're happy tears. That's all she knows.

"Oh, my God!" she squeals, choking back a particularly unattractive sob. "Bree, I can't believe you're here!"

Oh.

There's a moment of silence before Chloe says, "Oh, shit."

"What?" Aubrey asks, her voice floating through the cracks in the door. Stacie squeezes her eyes shut, trying her hardest to block out the sound.

"Does Stacie know you're here?"

"Yeah — she's the one who let me in," Aubrey says, her voice meek.

"What,  _really_?"

"Mm. It was ... God, it was awkward. She told me she didn't want to see me."

"Well, you can't exactly  _blame_ her," Chloe says, letting out a small, sad sigh. "You broke up with her because she wasn't good enough for you."

"No, I broke up with her because she wasn't good enough for —  _look_. We never could have worked out, right? Two completely different worlds," she says. Her voice is urgent and needy in the way that tells Stacie she's on the verge of tears, and something inside of her twists. "It was for the best," she adds after a beat.

"Right," Chloe agrees, but Stacie can tell without even having to see her face that it's half-hearted.

/

It takes her two weeks, three days and nine hours to crack. (Not that she's counting).

She's relaxing in the living room (or at least she's  _trying_ to relax) when a drunk Chloe and Aubrey come barreling through the door, laughing loudly at a joke they both seem to have forgotten. Chloe kicks her heels off and begins peeling all of her clothes off, dropping any and all articles of clothing at her feet. She strips down to her bra and panties and is reaching back to unclasp her bra when Aubrey moves her hand away and shakes her head.

"Chlo, you've gotta keep your clothes on," she says, but the stern tone is sort of overshadowed by the fact that she is pretty much swaying on the spot.

"Why?" Chloe whines, jutting out her lower lip.

"'Cause even though I've already seen your business, I don't want Stacie to."

Chloe's head flies to the side, her eyes meeting Stacie's. "Stacie! Ohmygod! I didn't know you were still up!" she breathes all in one gasp. She doesn't make any attempt to conceal herself, but she does at least look a little apologetic. "Here, wait — Bree, go upstairs."

"Huh?" Aubrey asks, blinking dazedly.

"Go upstairs to my room."

"What? Why?" she questions, and she's so confused that it makes something inside of Stacie ache because she looks so cute with her wide, unblinking eyes and the bemused expression on her face. "I'm not allowed in your room, remember?" She casts a glance at Stacie — one could maybe even describe it as longing — but Stacie shifts her gaze as soon as their eyes meet.

"Just go, 'kay? I needa talk to Stacie."

Aubrey rolls her eyes and trudges upstairs, leaving Chloe and Stacie alone in the living room. Chloe tiptoes over to the sofa where Stacie is sitting — TV paused in front of her, glass of red wine in hand — and takes a seat next to her.

"Gonna put your clothes on?" Chloe shakes her head. "Nope? Okay. What's up?"

"How're you doin'? Y'know, with the whole Aubrey thing."

"Um, I'm doing okay," Stacie says reluctantly. "It's a little awkward, sure, but living with your ex is bound to be awkward ... right?"

"Right."

"And I just avoid her when I can and try not to think about her too much, or else everything gets upsetting and I risk breaking down or something. Which is dumb, because we broke up six months ago."

"It's not dumb," Chloe says reassuringly, nestling her head in Stacie's shoulder. "You guys were in love. It's okay not to be okay."

"I know," Stacie hums.

"Have you cried about it yet?" Chloe inquires, mumbling the question into Stacie's shoulder.

"What, the breakup?"

"Mm."

"No," she says sharply. "No. I just ... No. It's stupid to cry over it, anyway, right?"

"What? No! Of course not!" Chloe guffaws, outraged. "Is it even a real breakup if you don't cry?"

"It felt pretty real to me."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

And Chloe's still drunk, but Stacie forgets about that when she loops an arm around Stacie's neck and presses a comforting kiss on the curve of her jaw. "I'm sorry, Stace. You shouldn't ever, ever feel like you can't cry about being sad. It's just natural, honey." She buries her head into Stacie's neck, kissing the spot where her mouth rests. "You wanna do it now? Get it out of the way while everyone else is asleep?"

Stacie hums something of an approval and before she knows it, she's choking on a sob and Chloe is wrapping her up in her best hug, stroking Stacie's hair and cooing gentle words of affection into her ear. "It's okay, honey. You're okay. Let it all out, sweetie, I'm not going anywhere."

"She just — I can't believe her! I just — I loved her  _so much_  — I still do — and she ... how could she tell me I'm not good enough for her? _Not_   _good enough_? Bullshit!"

"Come here, baby," Chloe says, kissing the side of her head. "I know that I'm Aubrey's best friend but what she did was wrong. It was so, so wrong. Come here, honey. Oh, I know it hurts now, but I promise you this will make you feel better. I promise."

"I wish that I could just fuck you or something," Stacie mumbles into Chloe, making the other girl giggle.

" _What_?"

"You're so good, Chloe, and I know that you'd be good in bed because ... well, just looking at you, I can tell. And I'm _great_ in bed, so we'd be fucking awesome together. And I wish that I could fuck you but I know if I did it would kill me because I still love her so much and you're her best friend, and I would spend the whole time thinking about her, probably, and you don't deserve that." Chloe is silent but she nuzzles her nose into Stacie's collarbone and kisses it a few times comfortingly so that she knows she's listening. "Plus, Beca would probably kill me, so ... y'know."

Chloe snorts into her neck and kisses it again. "Yeah, probably." A beat. "And — for the record — you're right; I'm fucking _awesome_ in bed."

/

There's a dance showcase coming up, and Stacie spends nearly every waking minute in the studio working with Caleb.

One day, they're running through the dance for what must be the millionth time that day, and although they could run through the steps in their sleep at this point, she curses herself every time she misses a step by even a quarter of a second, and she refuses to let Caleb stop until everything is utterly  _perfect_.

"Stace," he says after she makes him redo a part of the dance fifteen times in a row without stopping. "Take a breath, alright? Refocus."

She takes a deep breath, drawing it in from her chest, and smiles when she sees the soft look in his eye. It calms her instantly, and she nods a little at him. He rests his hands on top of her shoulders, rubbing small, soothing circles with his thumbs. They stand like that, in a peaceful silence, for a few minutes. There are other partners dancing around the studio, but it's as if it's just them now.

"Come here," she whispers, her voice getting caught in the back of her throat. He arches an eyebrow but complies, shuffling closer to her.

She tangles her fingers in the hairs at the back of his neck and brings him down so that his face is level with hers. She looks at his lips for a few seconds as she hesitates, and frowns at the pale shade of them in comparison to Aubrey's scarlet-painted lips. It's the thought of Aubrey that pushes her over the edge — she pulls him down and their lips meet, joining in a quick, sloppy kiss.

It's nothing what she imagined Caleb to kiss like, but it's sort of nice in an unexpected way.

And then he's moaning into her mouth and his hand is resting on the small of her back, and slipping down and down and down until it's wrapped around the curve of her ass, and Caleb is weirdly rough in ways that Aubrey never really was and it's nice because at least there's nothing for her to compare him to now.

His tongue slips past the seam of her lips and begins exploring her mouth, and it strikes her as odd that he doesn't really know what he's doing because they've never actually kissed before. Sure, she's had a few hookups since the breakup, but almost none of them involved actual kissing, and she had her eyes shut throughout them all because when it was just a random girl grinding against her thigh, she could at least pretend that the high-pitched, off-sounding moans are Aubrey's soft purrs.

But this is different.

This is rough, and fast, and it's, well, a  _man_. She hasn't been with a man since before she started dating Aubrey, which was well over a year ago now, and it's completely different than she remembers it to be. Even though Caleb is soft and gentle, there's still a hint of unshaven stubble on his chin, and it's rubbing against her mouth in a way that's distracting and more than a little off-putting. His tongue is rough and forceful and there's something hard digging into her leg that certainly isn't a roll of quarters.

"There are ... other people here," she mumbles against his lips. "We can't ... we can't do this here. And we can't go back to my place because I live in a house with ten other girls, currently, and one of them is my — we just ... can't go back to my place."

"My dorm is like, five minutes away," he pants. "We could go there?"

"Yeah, that's — okay."

They stumble back to his dorm, his lips pretty much constantly attached to her neck, and they're searching for her pulse point but he never seems to find it. He gets out between pants that his roommate is out for the day with friends and so they have no chance of being interrupted. As soon as they're in the room, his hands scramble for his own belt and he's undressed within seconds. Her clothes are yanked over her head, and everything is going by so fast that she doubts she'll remember it.

His face when he comes is one that is incomparable to Aubrey's in the way that she can barely stand to watch this, as Caleb's face scrunches up in what she assumes is pleasure and yet she never could get enough of watching Aubrey coming undone.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder when it's over and thanks her. He  _thanks her_ , like she's some sort of prostitute or something.

But Caleb is sweet, and he really does  _care_ about Stacie in a way that she hasn't seen since —

Well, it doesn't matter anymore.

So, when he asks her if she wants to go out some time, she puts on her best smile and nods yes.

/

Aubrey doesn't find out about Caleb until two months into it. He's picking her up for a date, and she's still upstairs touching up her makeup when the doorbell rings.

She's done a pretty good job at hiding this from Aubrey — who seems to have unofficially moved in for the foreseeable future — up until now. She's almost impressed, but she has to remind herself that this isn't really something that she  _should_ have to hide from Aubrey. But whatever, she reasons. It doesn't really bother her having to keep this from her, because it makes everything seem a little less serious than it feels at times.

But Caleb rings the doorbell and she hollers down the stairs asking if whoever's closest could please answer the door for her, and it just so happens that Aubrey is the person nearest the door.

She doesn't catch their whole exchange, but she exits her room a mere thirty seconds after the doorbell goes, so she sees most of it as she watches from the stairs, hidden by one of Chloe's house plants.

"Hi," Aubrey says, sounding a little confused. "Who are you?"

"Hi! I'm Caleb," he greets her, awkward smile on his face. He offers his hand out for a handshake but Aubrey declines, and Stacie can feel her lips quirk upwards into a smile despite how panicky she feels inside at the sight of her new boyfriend and her ex-girlfriend. "We haven't met yet, I don't think. Um ... Aubrey?"

"Yes," Aubrey replies, her tone now suspicious. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess," he says sheepishly. "Stacie doesn't really talk a lot about you, but I figured, y'know, if I've met everyone else, you must be Aubrey."

She watches as Aubrey hesitates and asks in a quieter voice, "Stacie?"

"Yeah! I'm Caleb!"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand?"

"Her boyfriend?"

She can see the way Aubrey's shoulders drop at that and even though she can't see her face from this angle, she just knows that her face has fallen as well. "Boyfriend?"

"Uh, yeah ... She didn't tell you?"

"No," Aubrey says firmly, clearing her throat. "No, she didn't. But I don't see why she would; after all, we aren't close."

She dashes down the stairs after that, bashful grin in place as if she hadn't heard nearly the whole of that painfully awkward exchange between her new boyfriend and her ex. "Caleb!" she exclaims, pushing past Aubrey. "I see you've met Aubrey."

"Um, yeah," he says. Aubrey only shrugs, looking more than a little crestfallen. "There was a little bit of confusion at first, but now I think we're clear ... right?"

"Right," Aubrey replies in a tight voice.

"Anyway, uh, we should get going," he says, directing this comment to Stacie. "Our reservation is for seven thirty and the restaurant is at least twenty minutes away."

"Alright, let's go."

"It was nice meeting you, Aubrey," Caleb says, but Aubrey's already gone.

/

 "So, you have a boyfriend, huh?" Aubrey asks, voice tight. She forces a small smile onto her lips, but it looks forced and tired. "That's nice. I'm ... I'm really happy for you."

"Thank you," Stacie says, and under Aubrey's gaze, she suddenly feels so very small.

"I'm glad that you have someone, Stace," Aubrey says softly. "You know, I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," Stacie whispers. "I know you didn't. You were just doing what you thought was best — even if it did end up messed up."

"I really did think I was doing what was best for you," she says, tears gathering in her eyes. Stacie reaches out and rests a hand on her arm, accompanied by a comforting smile. "My dad ... he doesn't — I know that you think that I broke up with you because you weren't good enough for me, Stacie. But that wasn't it. I promise you, it wasn't.

"I mean, how could it be? You're ...  _everything_. You're the best thing I've ever had and probably the best thing I ever  _will_ have, and I just —"

She's cut off with a kiss. Stacie finds herself crashing into her ex girlfriend, their lips meeting in a needy rush of tongue and teeth and mouths. They stay like that for what feels like an eternity — Stacie's hands cupping Aubrey's cheeks furiously, grasping for contact as she presses her against the kitchen door.

"What was that for?" Aubrey asks when she finally pulls away, breathless. "You're — you have a —"

"— That was for old time's sake," Stacie says, leaving one last lingering kiss on Aubrey's lips. "That was ... that was goodbye."

/

But goodbye isn't that easy when you live together, she soon realises.

Caleb is nice, and they rehearse their dances together for hours in the back yard, and he kisses her when she rambles and twirls her around when she's excited. In short, Caleb's the perfect boyfriend. He runs his hands through her hair and lets her sit and braid his, not complaining once when she French braids the long curls, or when she practices her makeup on him. He takes cute selfies with her and lets her look through his phone for no reason other than to be annoying, and he is kind and he is smart and she feels good enough around him.

He doesn't tell her that his father would never approve of their relationship — no, instead he tells her that his father would love to meet her.

He is, on paper, her dream boyfriend. He's the kind of person she fantasised about as a child; wrote about in journals. And she wishes he could be her soulmate so, so badly, because he's the kind of boy that you snap up and don't let go.

Except for his one fatal flaw:

He is not Aubrey Posen.

/

"You and Aubrey kissed, huh?" Beca asks. She pushes the shot glass filled with tequila across the table — an offer Stacie willingly accepts.

"What?" she asks, and she can hear the tremble in her voice. "What are you —  _no_. That's over."

"I saw you," she admits. She takes a drag of the cigarette balanced beneath her fingers, and Stacie watches for a few seconds as she ponders how Beca can be so anti-Tumblr and yet look like she was ripped right out of it at the same time. "In the kitchen, the other day. I walked into the living room just before you kissed her. That was ... wow. All I have to say is this: that didn't look like two people who were over."

"Well, it was," Stacie snaps. "That was a goodbye kiss; a farewell. One for the road."

"One for the ..." Beca scoffs. She exhales, letting out a puff of smoke. " _Fuck_ 'one for the road.' That wasn't one for the road, Stacie, and  _you know it_."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Stacie says, necking another shot of tequila.

/

She watches Caleb's every expression when she tells him.

First, he's confused, and then he's sad. Next, he's frustrated and then, he's  _angry_. He kicks a chair over and punches a table and lets out a strangled scream that shows his anger. Stacie's almost afraid of him before she sees the regret in his eyes and then they're back to square one: confusion.

"So, what? This was all ... all a lie?" he asks, a humourless laugh accompanying it.

"God, no, Caleb," she cries out. "No, it wasn't. I promise."

"But you were ...  _using_ me. To get over her."

"No!" she yells. "I ... Maybe — but not consciously. I want you; I do."

"But you want her more," he says, and he's so very sad again, with tears welling in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Caleb," she says, tears spilling out onto her cheeks. "I never meant to hurt you."

Aubrey's words come flashing back to her, and she chokes on a sob at the reminder. Caleb may be mad, but he sees the hurt in her expression and pulls her into his arms, wrapping them around her waist and nuzzling his head into her neck.

"I know you didn't," he mumbles, and he makes it so much harder to leave.

/

"I broke up with Caleb," she says. It's the only thing either of them have said to each other all week.

"I heard," is Aubrey's reply. Her voice is hoarse and scratchy, as if she's been crying. "Was it ... It wasn't ... because of me, right?"

Stacie scoffs. "What do you think?"

And with that, she storms out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr: @staciieconrad
> 
> p.s. I'm open to making this multichapter I guess


End file.
